


take a look [we have it all]

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, consider this a fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: maggie nods, and her shoulders relax, she holds out her hand “it was good to see you alex.”you shake her hand “you too maggie”and then she leaves.leaves you standing there, in the poorly lit room, wondering why you feel your heart breaking.[or: alex and maggie broke up - but maybe nothing lasts forever]





	take a look [we have it all]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traceable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceable/gifts).



“danvers,” j’onn says, finding you in the lab, white coat on, gaze caught in a microscope “i need you to go collect a suspect.” 

you stand, shaking your arms to let the sleeves of your lab coat loosen to your wrists, instead of being perched above your elbows like they were “oh?” you ask, only half paying attention, reaching for a pen and your clipboard and scribbling down a quick array of notes “where from?” 

you’re thinking the suspect is hiding in a local bar, or a nice dark alleyway somewhere. so when j’onn says “ncpd science department.” 

you pause. 

you set down your pen, your notebook. 

“oh.” you say, “sure. fine. no problem.” 

it is not fine. it is a problem. 

not that j’onn has to be a mind reader to see that. it’s obvious in the way your shoulders hunch and you fold your arms across your stomach that going to the ncpd science division precinct, is, in fact, the last thing you want to do. namely because you know for a fact that maggie still works there. 

just thinking about her makes your heartache. 

not as bad as it did a little over a year ago - when you cried for days and cursed the desire to have kids that was so instilled in you. 

[a desire, that after recent events, you’re no longer so sure exists] 

“i can ask agent vasquez to retrieve the suspect.” j’onn offers. 

“no.” you say before you give yourself the chance to say yes “i can do it.” 

you’re an adult. you’re a mature human being. you can go and talk to your own ex-girlfriend about a prisoner transfer. 

who knows, you tell yourself, as you book out a deo transport van, neatly emblazoned with FBI on the side, maybe maggie won’t even be working. 

// 

maggie is working. 

you know this because the officer at the front desk recognises you, barely suppresses a glare in your direction and then picks up the phone, dialing an extension. 

you are left standing, trying to feel confident and falling short, landing on awkward hands jammed in your pocket, arm tucking your jacket behind your hip so your badge is exposed. 

the officer on the phone sound bored, saying “yes, detective sawyer, i have a member of the FBI here for you. something about a suspect in custody.”  
pause. 

a longer pause. 

panic sets in because, 

what if maggie doesn’t let you in? what if she tells the officer to tell you that she’s not interested? what if - 

a door buzzes opens, and your heart leaps to your throat because through the door, walks maggie. 

and goddamn, 

she looks good. 

she’s dressed in an outfit that brings back memories of her interrogating winn. black pants that hug her legs, a white button-up shirt tucked into those and a blazer, black, slim fit. it’s an outfit that maggie rocked then, and she knows she looks good in now, especially with the new hair. 

the new hair that leaves you momentarily speechless because it’s - it’s short. her hair has been sheared. shaved from the back of her neck around to the left side of her head. enough fuzz for you to see the dark colour, but neat. the longness of it all that you remember carding through your fingers is short and pushed back from her face, styled over the undercut. 

it reminds you of when you cut your own hair just after joining the deo. a small symbol of change. 

your heart drops as you think about the last time you touched maggie’s hair, 

and the significance this new look may hold. 

“agent danvers.” maggie says, “we’ll talk this way.” 

talk. 

right. 

you are going to have to do that. 

“follow me.” 

you do. 

you follow her through the electric door, down some stairs into the belly of the building. towards the holding cells, you vaguely remember. 

“so how can the ncpd help you?” maggie asks, turning into a side office and closing the door behind the two of you “something about a suspect?’ 

“uh,” you start, pulse racing, trying to figure out how maggie can look so calm, so unfazed “yes.” 

“any more details than that, or….” maggie trails off.

gone are the days where this would have been accompanied by a smirk and a laugh. 

instead, the comment stings. 

you pull yourself together, finding the right words “zoya buckner.” you say “she’s a suspect in an ongoing f-” you pause, 

this is maggie. 

she knows. 

she’s been a part of the goddamn deo. 

“ongoing case we’re working on.” 

“just to clarify, who’s we?” maggie asks, staring you down. 

you bite your lip and hesitate. you know what you’re supposed to do is tell maggie you work for the fbi and she has to listen to you. but a) maggie knows damn well you do not work for the fbi and b) maggie doesn’t have to do jack, not without the official warrant that alex really does not want to have to use. 

“maggie-” you start. 

“this is protocol, agent danvers.” maggie says “i have to know who i may or may not be releasing my suspect to.” 

“you know who.” 

“humor me,” you ask. 

“no.” maggie replies “i’m not going to humor the deo. i’ve seen what happens to aliens in your custody. they get locked away for the rest of their lives. condemned without a trial, without a jury. i’m not about to let zoya become a part of that.” 

it’s hard not to be offended, even when part of you knows that maggie is right. 

[you hate that part of your brain jumps to the fact that maggie and kara would love to have that conversation, that they would both enjoy knowing that someone else has the same opinions] 

“she’s wanted for murder.” you point out. 

“if you’d conducted a better investigation you would have all the facts.” maggie points out, and you watch as satisfaction slips across her face when she realises that you don’t actually have all the piece to the puzzle. 

“we just want to talk to her.” you try, attempting to keep your voice steady. 

“forgive me if i don’t believe that danvers.” 

silence holds. 

maggie is glaring at you. 

you feel the pressing of the warrant in your pocket. 

you don’t want to use it. you want to be above having to use your rank to get what you want from this. you want to be able to ask maggie to let you talk to this person and not have to stay behind these professional walls. 

you swallow hard and take a breath “i understand that you don’t want zoya to,” you pause, struggling for the words - 

“deprived of her rights?” 

“yeah.” you say “that.” 

“say it.” 

“what?” 

“admit what your organisation does.” 

you look at maggie, trying to gauge if she’s being serious or not. from the steel in her eyes, it looks like she is. like she must be, and that leaves you with very few options. you take a breath and start again, 

“maggie, i understand that you don’t want zoya to be deprived of her rights. but we have evidence that points to her as an important link in a smuggling ring. we just want to talk to her. we just want to know what she knows.” 

“and what if she doesn’t know anything?” 

“given the evidence, that’s going to be hard to believe.” 

“exactly.” maggie bites “exactly. so you’d hold her and hold her, until she told you something, anything that she thought you wanted to hear. that’s not just danvers. i won’t have it.” 

this is not going to plan, and yet it’s going exactly as well as you thought it would. 

which sucks. 

“what if,” you wrack your brain, trying to think of a way to make this work “what if you accompany her?” 

maggie raises an eyebrow “come with us to the deo, you can watch the interrogation, and then we will make sure you and the suspect get back here tonight.” 

“i want to be in the room.” maggie says “i want to be in the interrogation room with her. she’s not a suspect alex, she’s a victim, and i thought you would have been able to see that.” 

you swallow the bite and nod “okay. you’re in the room.” 

“if you’re jerking me around i will file a complaint.” 

“you won’t need to file a complaint,” you promise, but still it looks like maggie doesn’t believe you, doesn’t want to be stuck in a car with you. 

you sigh, “the truck is parked by the side entrance.” you say “i’ll be waiting there.” 

you leave the room, waiting until you’re out of the station and back in the driver's seat to let out a breath. to curse and bit your lip because it’s been a _year_ a full year and somehow your heart aches and your pulse is racing and even when she’s angry at you, with you, with the people you work for, 

maggie is still the most breathtaking person you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

you sit in the truck and wait. 

and wait. 

and for a moment you think maggie’s just fucking you off, until there’s a slam and the side door opens and you look through the passenger window to see maggie with one arm on zoya buckner, leading her towards the back of the truck. grabbing the keys from your belt, you walk to the side of the car, just as maggie is saying 

“don’t worry,” to zoya “we’re just going to talk with them, i won’t leave you alone.” 

you round the corner and zoya looks up at you, wide eyed and afraid. from one look your gut tells you that maggie is right, that this woman is a victim in all this, not a suspect. still, you have your orders. 

you watch as maggie guides zoya into the back, watch as maggie climbs up into the back as well and looks at you, 

“i’ll ride back here agent danvers.” 

you’re not surprised. 

not really, and you do not feel in a position to negotiate anything. so instead you nod once, you say “shout if you need anything.” and close the door, cursing j’onn and your inability to just let vasquez handle this job. 

//

when you show up to the deo with both the suspect and maggie in tow, there is a momentary flash of surprise in j’onn’s eyes before he nods at maggie and says “detective sawyer, nice to see you.” 

“hey j’onn.” maggie smiles, and she smiles so brightly, so near genuinely that it makes your heart ache “where do you want us?” 

j’onn looks to you, you look to maggie, maggie keeps looking at j’onn. 

“room six.” j’onn says. 

maggie leads the way, and you let her go, turning to j’onn and saying “i don’t think zoya’s going to give us much. maggie seems pretty convinced that she’s a victim of the smuggling ring, not a component.” 

“the evidence that detective sawyer shared would indicate this as well. we have cctv footage of zoya being hassled by the victim at the bar, and there is further evidence to substantiate detective sawyers conclusion that zoya killed in self-defense.” 

alex lets out a long breath “i’m going to get this over with.” 

“what about,” j’onn says “vasquez handles the interrogation.” 

“i can do my job j’onn.” 

“i never said you couldn’t danvers, i am simply acknowledging the substantial history between you and detective sawyer and perhaps it would be best for you, her and zoya buckner if vasquez handles the interrogation.”

“fine.” you sigh, irritated and wound tight from this entire ordeal “vas can handle the interrogation. i’m going to be shooting things. with large guns.” 

call it target practice, call it blowing off some steam, call it avoiding your emotions, but you leave before really giving j’onn the chance to say anything more. 

// 

big guns do, in fact, make you feel marginally better. 

being good at something makes you feel better. even if you do scare away some rookies when you start just blowing targets up. 

you only stop shooting when the red light above your station glows, alerting you to someone entering the room. you expect a rookie, or j’onn, or kara, or hell, 

anyone but maggie. 

who’s standing there, hands in her pockets, looking far softer than you’ve seen her all day? 

“detective,” you say, flipping the safety onto the gun and setting it down with a heavy thud “how did the interrogation go?” 

maggie nods, taking a step closer to you “good. between the ncpd and the deo, we’re going to be able to get zoya relocated to somewhere safe. somewhere she can start over.” 

“good.” you nod, preoccupying yourself with removing the clip from the gun and taking the ear defenders from around your neck and setting them both on the counter “i’m glad.” 

you are keenly aware that the room is empty bar maggie and yourself. you are keenly aware how dry your mouth is, how fast your heart is going -

it’s been a year, you try to tell yourself, but right now that doesn’t seem to be working. 

“why didn’t you just use the warrant?” maggie asks

you look up at her “because we can be adults.” you say “i thought that you and i, we could handle this without me having to shove some official piece of paper at you.” 

“but i told you no, outright.” you aren’t sure what maggie’s pressing for, what answer she wants you to give her, but all you can do right now is be honest. 

“your concerns about the deo’s methods are valid.” you say “and you’ve always tried to do what’s right, what’s best for the victims. of course, you just wanted to keep her safe. who would i be if i faulted you for that.” 

maggie nods and her shoulders relax, she holds out her hand “it was good to see you alex.” 

you shake her hand “you too maggie” 

and then she leaves. 

leaves you standing there, in the poorly lit room, wondering why you feel your heart breaking. 

// 

that should have been it. 

that should have been the end and you should have gone another six months without seeing maggie again.

except that’s not what happens. 

no, 

instead what happens is three weeks later maggie turns up at your door. 

she turns up at your door wide eyed with blood on her shirt. her hands are shaking and you’re pulling her inside before you have a chance to ask any questions. 

“i’m sorry.” maggie is saying, “i’m sorry, i know it’s late, i-” 

she sees kara sitting on the couch “shit. danvers. i’m sorry.” she turns for the door, but you’ve got two hands on her shoulders and you’re steering her to sit down next to kara. 

“breathe.” you tell her, looking over at kara “can you get the first aid kit from under the sink?” kara nods and she’s standing, moving away towards the bathroom and giving the pair of you some space “maggie,” you say gently “what happened?” 

“got mugged.” maggie says after a beat “on my way home.” 

“is this your blood?” 

maggie nods slowly “yeah, they punched me. i think.” 

you see where maggie is pointing and “they stabbed you mags.” 

the nickname slips out before you can stop it. 

maggie shifts and looks away “i wouldn’t have come but,” she hesitates “your place was closer than the hospital and this way i don’t have to report it and…” she trails off “thank you for letting me in.”

you process the information, and say on instinct more than anything else “of course i let you in.” 

because how were you going to say no? 

kara reappears with the first aid kit, putting it down on alex’s kitchen table with a thunk “what do you need?” she asks you. 

“the sterile water and the gauze,” you say immediately, rolling up maggie’s sleeve. 

you see new ink curling around maggie’s bicep, you wonder if she’s finally got the tattoo of her grandmother's favourite flower. 

“this is gonna sting.” you warn, and you feel maggie tense - she puts on a brave face but you know maggie’s pain tolerance is lower than anyone would expect “i’ll go slow.” 

“get it done with.” maggie hisses and she watches you carefully as you twist the cap off the sterile water and prep the gauze “please,” she adds. 

you pour the water over the wound, letting the gauze and the towel kara hands you catch it. the towel is pink with blood, and by the time you've cleaned the wound you can see that while it’s fairly deep, the blade used was clean, sharp “it should heal okay.” you tell her “but i’ll need to give you three, maybe four stitches.” 

“you can hold my hand.” kara offers “squeeze as tight as you want.” 

“i will take you up on that.” maggie says, reaching for kara’s hand. 

you watch as kara shuffles closer to maggie, holding out her hand. you watch as maggie takes it, closes her eyes and holds her breath. 

you work quickly but deliberately, hearing maggie hiss and whimper, watching her grip on kara’s hand goes white knuckle. 

you wrap the wound carefully in gauze and then “there you go.” you rock back onto your heels “done.” 

maggie lets go of kara’s hand and looks down at her arm, nodding. your heart stops when she looks up at you “thank you.” she says “you didn’t have to.” 

“you showed up at my door bleeding.” you tell her “i wasn’t not going to let you in.” 

you feel more words on the tip of your tongue. you feel a swell of emotions twisting in your stomach and “i should get home.” maggie says “mittens hates it when i leave for work, let alone go out.” 

“mittens?” 

“uh, my cat.” maggie says “i adopted her.” 

you think about maggie with a cat. you think of maggie with a cat, with you. 

maggie’s standing, holding her arm close to her chest and before you can offer, kara is saying “i can walk you home maggie if you like.” 

for half a second it seems like maggie will say no, but then she nods “sure kara, i’d appreciate that.” 

then she’s turning to you, looking at you and saying “thanks again alex.” 

“stay safe maggie.” is the last thing you say to her before your front door closes. 

// 

you spend the next three hours sitting on your couch wondering why kara offered to walk maggie home. it’s not that kara isn’t one of the nicest most considerate people you know, but, 

still, 

she should have known that you were vying to do that. 

you turn the tv off and glare at your own reflection - you have no right to walk maggie home. you’re not, well, you’re not anything to her any more. you’re a hospital without the paperwork and the questions. 

which you can live with. 

sort of. 

maybe. 

you stand up, gathering the towel and the rest of the supplies that you used to patch maggie back together, and it’s only when you’re walking to the garbage that you notice, in a heap by the door, is a jacket. 

once you’re empty handed you pick it up, seeing the slice in the sleeve of the jacket and realising this must be maggies. the longer you stare at it, however, the more you realise that sure, maggie was wearing it, 

but it was your jacket. 

yours. one that you’re sure maggie would have tossed or donated or gotten rid of by now, but instead, she is apparently still wearing it. 

you’re not sure what to do with that revelation. 

you take the jacket to the sink and turn on the tap - you’re far too used to removing blood from your clothes for this to bother you anymore. you can almost do it on autopilot. 

which is good because kara lets herself into your apartment three hours and fifteen minutes after leaving it. 

which is a bit of a surprise if you do say so yourself. 

“hi?” you say, wondering why she looks so windswept “everything okay?” 

“maggie got home safely.” kara says and then she’s putting something down on the counter. 

a wallet. a watch. 

you look up at her. back down at the items. 

maggies wallet. maggie’s watch. 

you look back up at kara “so you walked maggie home, so you could go find her muggers, steal maggie stuff back and then instead of bringing her stuff to maggie, you bring it to me.” 

“yes.” 

“why?” 

“it seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“how?” 

kara shrugs “now you have an excuse to go talk to her again.” 

“kara -” 

“alex, there is a hospital three blocks from here.” 

you blink at her. 

“she was lying alex, about the hospital thing. she came here because she wanted to see you.” 

“because i don’t do paperwork.” 

“because she wanted to see you.” 

you sigh, scrub harder at the blood on the sleeve of the jacket and say “i hate you a little bit.” 

“that doesn’t matter.” kara says, laying back out on the couch “i’m still right. and it’s still a good plan.” 

“it’s not a plan.”

“it is.” kara reassures you “you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize that.” 

you doubt it. 

// 

the next morning kara has made coffee, brought you donut from that english place you like so much - and left maggies wallet and watch sitting on your counter. 

you stare at them. 

you hate kara a little bit. 

you ignore the items and go for a run. you shower, you eat your donut and you get through an episode and a half of killing eve when you stand up in a huff, say out loud, to no one in particular “fucking fuck.” and walk back over to the counter. 

this is not a good plan, you decide, but it is a plan. because it’s happening. you grab maggie’s wallet and watch, moving towards the door, but you notice something fall from maggie’s wallet. from where you’re standing it looks like a business card, as you bend down and pick it up you realise it’s _your_ business card. 

your jacket. 

your business card. 

your head is spinning. 

your brain is telling you one thing, your heart saying another and somewhere in between you’re left standing here, left aching for understanding. 

left aching for maggie.

you take the business card and you find a pen, adding to the bottom, your cell phone number - because what if kara was right? what if maggie just wanted to see you? 

you’re entirely convinced, but you put the card back into maggie’s wallet and head to her place anyway. 

in the morning traffic it takes you twenty minutes on your bike, tracing a familiar route through a city, a route you never thought you would take again. 

you enter maggie’s building, the code to the front door hasn’t changed - and you’re walking up the stairs to maggie’s apartment before your heart really starts to race. not just because you’re returning her stuff, but because you have her jacket, your jacket - the jacket, that she left at your place with you. 

you knock twice. 

wait. 

you hear music paused, you hear footsteps and beat, then the door swings open. 

“alex,” maggie says, “is everything okay?” 

“yeah,” you say, “uh, kara got your stuff back.” you hold out her wallet and her watch, “i thought i’d bring it around when there was less chance you’d be asleep.” 

“oh,” maggie takes her wallet, her watch “thanks. thank kara for me.” 

“of course.” you say, and then “oh, you left something else.” you unzip your backpack and pull out the leather jacket “you left this behind.” 

“i-” maggie starts, stops “it’s yours, technically.” 

you can’t help but smile slightly “i know, i-” you keep holding it out to her “you can have it. if you want.” 

“alex-” 

“you’re still wearing it mags, i don’t mind. you can keep it.” 

maggie takes the jacket, nodding “thank you. i, i appreciate it.” 

your stomach is in knots, all the words you thought you had are gone. 

“keep the wound dry.” is all you can manage “until you take the stitches out. or, i can. if you want. take them out for you - in like a week.” 

“okay.” maggie say “yeah, sure.” 

you feel like a teenager, standing here, not sure what to say. 

“i should go, work -” 

“yeah, sure, go for it.” maggie is nodding, letting you head for the door “i don’t want to keep you.” 

you want to say, 

_i’ll see you around._

but you don’t. you dare not voice what you don’t understand. 

// 

you do not see maggie in a week. 

or in the one after that. 

or in any of the next two weeks after that. 

you try not to be disappointed, but you are, more than a little bit. 

you try and live with the disappointment though. you try and move on. 

you do pretty good at it. 

//

it’s thursday night and your phone rings as you just get home . you swipe without looking at the screen and answer the phone with “danvers.” 

to which the response you get is _“hey danvers,”_ and your world slows _“this is maggie.”_

‘yeah, hi, hey.” 

the words tumble out gracelessly. 

_”can i come over?”_

“did you get mugged again?” 

there’s a short, unsteady laugh _”no, no i didn’t.”_

“i’m home.” you tell her “come whenever you want.” 

there’s a knock on your door. 

it is both expected and unexpected for maggie to be standing there - grey long sleeve v-neck shirt and jeans - taking your breath away look as casual as she does. 

“hi.” you say, then ask carefully “are you drunk?” 

maggie shakes her head “no,” she says “but i sort of wish i was.” 

you close and lock the door behind her “are you in trouble?” 

“no.” she shakes her head again and there’s a moment where you’re standing there, facing her and she’s facing you and the room is silent. 

you’re not sure what to expect. you don’t know what to do. 

you are trying to find the words to ask a question and then -

then maggie is kissing you. 

she’s rocked up onto her toes, her hands are cupping your jaw. 

she’s kissing you. 

you can’t breathe, but you make sure you’re kissing her back. 

[for the first time in thirteen months, you feel like you’ve come home. like the world has settled. it should scare you.] 

the kiss goes on, and you wouldn’t mind at all if it lasted forever, but soon enough maggie is dropping back onto her heels and her hands are tangling in front of her chest and you’re breathless and she’s saying 

“i want to hate you.” 

you don’t speak, you watch her wring her hands together, you see the tension radiate down her spine. 

she keeps going. 

“i’ve tried for so long to hate you. you broke my heart. but i can’t stop thinking about you alex. i can’t. not since you showed up for that transfer. i can’t get you off my mind. and then i found your card. with your number on it.” she looks up at you “that’s new. your number.” 

you nod, you still can’t find the right words. 

“and i looked at it and i wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself because you broke up with me. you broke my heart. you -” 

“maggie,” 

“i’m not done.” she takes a breathe “you ruined me, alex. you left me and i cried for weeks. i -” she shakes her head and her voice is raw “i want to hate you. but i can’t. i just can’t do it. and i needed to kiss you again. and i wanted to see you and -” she’s running a hand through her hair “and now i feel like an idiot. because i have - i have no right to be here. i’m just going to get hurt again-” 

“maggie please,” you try and this stops her, freezes her, one hand running through her short hair, the other clenched in a fist, as if she’s trying to steady herself “breaking up with you,” you look at her, preparing yourself to admit this “it was the worst decision of my life.” 

“alex-” 

“maggie, i mean it. i’m not just saying that because you’re here and you kissed me. i’m saying it because it’s the truth.” 

there’s a beat of silence. 

“i believe you.”

another beat of silence “

“i’ve never stopped loving you.” 

“i haven’t either.” you’re shaking “i’m still in love with you.” 

the silence is thin, 

so what do we do?” maggie asks, her voice wavering. 

you don’t know.

it’s too big a question for this moment when all you want is - 

“can i kiss you again?” your voice is soft, your hands are softer as maggie nods and you’re bringing them to her waist, pulling her close, keeping her closer. 

you’ve missed this. 

missed how when you’re kissing maggie the world seems to slow. time becomes irrelevant and your ever racing mind seems to pause. you feel like you can breathe safe, breathe easy. 

the more you’re kissing her, the more apparent it’s becoming that talking may not be on the agenda tonight. 

taking maggie to bed? 

that most certainly seems to be. 

// 

maggie has you on your back, her hands are on your hips and her tongue is at your clit. you are seeing stars and she’s only just getting started. she’s alternating, winding you up, building you to the very edge with her fingers and her tongue, and then pulling back, kissing your thighs, your hips, your stomach. 

she takes her time and all you want to do is keep a hand on the back of her head, where there’s a line between shaved and shaggy. where you can play with both, where you can grab at maggie’s hair when her fingers find 

_that_

spot. the spot that makes your back arch and whine escape your throat that doesn’t even sound like you - but is all a result of maggie. 

“please, please, please.” you’re panting. 

you’re desperate. 

“please, maggie please.” your words dissolve into noise, into moans and groans, 

because _fuck_ , 

because you want her to make you come. you want to feel maggie wither every fibre of your being. 

you want her. 

like you think she wants you. 

“this time.” maggie hums and her tongue finds your clit, her fingers find your cunt and 

oh. 

oh. 

oh _shit._

you come hard and fast all over maggie’s hand. you come with a muffled scream and a whine and to stars exploding across your vision. 

you stop thinking. 

your brain stops working, and it’s wonderful.

it’s wonderful to come back down from this high to maggie kissing at your collarbone, one hand tracing at your stomach. her smile is soft, her words gentle in the darkness of your apartment 

“hey, you,” she says. 

you smile “hey.” 

you wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, trying to believe that this is real. that this is happening. 

that you may get a third chance with this woman. 

maggie kisses the side of your neck, and you feel her roll onto your back 

‘tell me i’m not going to get my heart broken again.” she says quietly, staring at the ceiling. 

“you’re not going to get your heart broken again.” 

she looks over at you “alex, you can’t be jerking me around with this. i-” she shakes her head and looks back at the ceiling “i barely got through this the first time.” 

“i’m not jerking you around.” you say, trying to explain “i wouldn’t do that.” 

maggie stiffens and your regret the words as soon as you say them. 

“oh is that not what you call asking me to marry you and then breaking up with me?” maggie says, but there’s no bite to the words “because that’s exactly what it felt like alex. i felt like it’d been played.” 

“i’m sorry.” you say, picking the words carefully “for hurting you. for breaking up with you.” maggie looks over at you and never before have you seen so much hope and so much fear on someone’s face “i meant what i said,” you tell her “i’ve never stopped loving you.” 

“then why did you break up with me?” 

“i thought,” you start, you stop, “i thought i needed kids in my life to be happy.” 

“you thought?” maggie says, you can feel her hesitation, her hopefulness. 

“they don’t have to be my kids,” you say, voicing your realization for the second time. 

“i don’t understand.” maggie says, rolling onto her side to look at you. 

“i think, i thought i wanted kids of my own. but i,” you shake your head “i just want to be able to be a positive influence in kids lives. i want to be able to make a difference for some kids. at first, i thought that meant that i needed, wanted, to have kids of my own. but that’s not, that’s not what it is. i can get that satisfaction, i can help kids without having to have my own.” you take a shaking breath “i realised that i wanted you in my life. that you, you’re, everything. you make me a better person. you make me happier than i thought i could be. losing you was, is my biggest mistake.” 

maggie is silent for a long time, but you give her the space to work out what she wants to say next. when she does finally speak, you feel the weight of her words, heavy in the room 

“i’ve missed you alex.” she says quietly “every day.” she moves closer to you “every night.” 

you roll onto your side, reaching for her, 

“can i hold you?” you ask, knowing that in the morning there will be time for more serious conversations, but right now, 

“please.” maggie says, rolling so her back is to you, so you can press yourself against her, 

right now this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> ontari asked me to write this, or - i asked her for a sanvers based prompt and this is what she gave me. 
> 
> so here we are. 
> 
> i once again blame 1) chylers hair, 2) ontari, 3) bathtimefunduck - the latter two of whom are enabling this writing spree. as are all the lovely folk who have comment and kudo-ed my recent and not so recent works. it is much appreciate. 
> 
> by the way, i am still one tumblr, at [4beit](https://4beit.tumblr.com/) if you want to come shout with me about very specific supergirl things.


End file.
